Page 16 of Trigger Discipline

None of those compared to the anguish he felt at seeing what was left of the hospital.

Where buildings had once stood tall and proud, there were now crumbling ruins reminiscent of ancient societies. The fires were gone, now just smoldering pockets of embers belching heat and thick smoke, clinging to life.

Hot wind blew across his face as he tried to breathe shallowly. He couldn’t stand the stench. Blake thought he had been desensitized to smells—he laughed at the rookies who still had to smear VapoRub under their noses when they went into homes. But here he was, lungs barely expanding so he didn’t have to inhale death on the wind.

Behind him, Tommy was perched on the hood of the ambulance. Hugging himself, he was clearly trying not to think of his mother in a similar hospital. Phin was standing beside him, prodigious arms crossed as he side-eyed the kid.Eventually, he shifted so his shoulder was brushing against Tommy’s knee.

Judd was still sleeping on the stretcher. He’d lost a lot of blood, and while his color was getting better, he needed the rest.

Which left the small squad’s intrepid commander to linger at Blake’s side. His silence was telling. His eyes bore into the back of Blake’s head.

“I’m sure someone?—”

“Don’t.”

Blake didn’t want to hear his baseless platitudes. He said the same bullshit every day to his patients. Little fragments of hope, spat out to give them something to cling to. But he wasn’t stupid. He knew what this was.

“Maybe they evacuated?” Gabriel stepped up to him, hazel eyes looking down at him.

Blake couldn’t say why, but he was irrationally angry that Gabriel was taller than him. He huffed, turning to look at the commander. The man looked competent. He was tall and fit, with broad shoulders. His all black uniform didn’t have any insignia or patches. The plate carrier sat heavy on his shoulders. The pockets on his pants were full. Guns at his side. He even had a knife belted to him.

And under all of that, Gabriel looked unfrazzled. What Blake could see of his face under the helmet was nice. A large, straight, aquiline nose. Smooth skin under a scruff of dark hair on his cheeks and chin. Hazel eyes that looked cunning. Even with all the dust caked to his lashes.

He radiated intelligence and competence.

Blake wanted to hit him. He wanted to scream. He wanted to go home. Lock himself in his room and open up the latest novel he’d been getting lost in. Or better, plug in his video games and let himself fall into a cyber world where nothing was real and the blood was pixelated.

Gritting his teeth hard enough that they squeaked, heglared up at the soldier. He knew people in that hospital. Lots of them. Most of them for many years. He’d seen Allison, the nursing coordinator, struggle to get pregnant—she’d been so happy when the IVF finally worked. And Clarence had worked nights for years until he could finally afford his dream car. Hell, he’d been invited to Sandra and Patel’s wedding. They’d met in the Trauma Room.

And now they were gone. Burned to a crisp or crushed under tons of building that no one was coming to pull off them. They didn’t evacuate. They wouldn’t have. Not when there were people to save.

“Why didn’t you evacuate?” Gabriel tried when Blake didn’t answer.

“Evacuate?” Blake didn’t recognize the venom dripping off his words. Didn’t know he was capable of it. “What evacuation? I was at work, and then all of a sudden—the city was being blown apart! When were we supposed to evacuate?”

He stepped up close to Gabriel, close enough that their boots were brushing, and he could tip his chin and be almost eye level.

Gabriel didn’t flinch. “I’m sorry.”

Blake didn’t want to hear it. His empty words fell like a guillotine. If Gabriel was sorry, there was something to be sorry for.

And there was so much to be sorry for. And none of it was his fault.

“What about you? Huh?” he shoved Gabriel hard enough the man took two steps back. Blake got the impression that he’d let him.

“Where were the fuckingsoldiers?Why weren’t you here to protect us?” he felt like he was watching from above, like he wasn’t in control of his body. “They sent three of you.Three. Where the fuck are the Marines? SWAT? Why aren’t they saving us? How could they…” he ran out of steam. His voice was raw, and he realized this was pointless. Gabriel was a pair of boots. He didn’t make these choices.

Swearing, Blake stalked back toward the ruined hospital. He kicked a chunk of cement and relished in the pain that bloomed up his foot.

In the movies, the military always swooped in. They saved the people. Protected them. They had big guns and tactics. They were organized and strong. Kids didn’t die when they were there.

He heard Gabriel’s boots crunching as he approached again. “I don’t have answers for you.”

“I know,” he spat, hating that he was still angry at Gabriel even though he knew he shouldn’t be. That he wasn’t doing anything wrong.

Blake was just so, so, tired. Not physically, although he was sure under the racing of adrenaline, he was exhausted—no, he was tired of keeping a straight face. Of pretending like he didn’t notice all the details. All the horrible shapes that looked a littletoohuman to pretend they were anything else. Of the stench that clung in the air—burning hair and skin. Hell, even the tiny little mangled bodies of squirrels that had been shot from their trees.

His hands were shaking in a way they hadn’t since his first year as an EMT, and he couldn’t make them stop.